


Patrick is a little Shit

by ermengarde



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-14 02:10:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12997545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ermengarde/pseuds/ermengarde
Summary: Patrick is a little shit, but Pete's just happy he's got a secret part of Patrick all his own. Also: their tour manager is epically shit, Andy really likes crossfit and Joe's back hurts.





	Patrick is a little Shit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [semi_sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semi_sweet/gifts).



> Thank you to my lovely - and apparently psychic - chum who helped me out greatly with the head wrestling on this one

They’re at the airport, and they’ve been awake for so long now that it doesn’t matter what the clock says, or fucking timezone they’re actually in, it’s late. Joe is hunkered down in what passes for a comfortable chair in the first class lounge, hat pulled over his eyes, arms crossed, and with a great line in grumbling noises any time anyone dares to make the slightest tiny bit of noise near him. Pete knows that Joe’s not asleep, he’s spent too many hours and years sharing space with him not to know, but he also knows that this travelling is fucking with Joe’s back and he will fight anyone to the death if it means that Joe gets to keep whatever position he’s found that gives him some relief. 

Andy’s practising some kind of planking thing over in the corner, because Andy hasn’t been to a gym in 48 hours, more maybe now, and Andy is nothing if not resourceful. Pete doesn’t want to go and sit near Andy when he’s in cross-fit mode, any more than he wants to sit near Joe when he’s in sleep-grouch mode, which means he’s stuck with Patrick. 

Not that being stuck with Patrick is a hardship, like, not even _inside his head_ would he think of whispering anything bad about spending time with Patrick - his Pattycakes is perfect. 

“You’re breathing too loud Pete.” Patrick kicks Pete’s ankle. 

Patrick is perfect, but he is also a little shit. At least he’s not _that_ likely to piss all over Pete’s stuff while they’re in the airport (and, to be fair, Patrick hasn’t pissed on anything that Pete knows about since Patrick’s been involved in toilet training, it’s been a surprising and delightful side effect). Pete tries to breathe more quietly, but as he wasn’t aware he was making any noise before, he’s not completely sure that he’s being successful now. 

Pete cracks the knuckles on his left hand, absent-mindedly. He only notices he’s doing it when Patrick makes a noise like Marge Simpson, and that just makes him do it _more_. Pete learned about being a little shit from the best, after all. 

“Do you want a coffee?” He asks Patrick. 

“Do I look like a Way brother?” Patrick grouses “It’s bad enough that we’re stuck in this darn airport without adding insomnia into the mix.”

Pete snorts. “I love it when you curse like a grandpa.”

Patrick mutters at him and resettles his hat. 

“No, I mean, I know it’s so you don’t fuck up and curse in front of the kids or whatever, but, like, you’ve got all these people totally convinced that you’re this perfect polite gentleman with your grandpa sweaters and gosh darn words and it’s totally not who you are at all. Like… we covered you in baby ducks! That’s who people think you are!” Pete grins at Patrick, showing all his teeth in the way he knows completely infuriates him.

“Did you have a point Pete?”

Patrick’s getting snappy, like he always does when he’s overtired. “Yeah. Well.” Pete rattles out a breath. “I guess I just, it’s kinda cool, you know? You have this whole side that people don’t really know about. I get to keep that all to myself.” Pete hugs himself, he’s always loved having something that’s just _his_ , it makes him feel… special. He can see Patrick’s mouth doing that thing it does when he doesn’t want to smile. “I’d like it better if I got keep the super sweet side and everyone else got the little shit, but…” Patrick throws a balled up napkin at him. 

“Hey!” Pete laughs. 

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Stop calling me a little shit, Pete. And you can get me some tea.”

“Weeeeeeell… the napkin throwing does kinda prove my point…” Patrick reaches for another napkin, so Pete puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll go and get you tea, you monster!”

Patrick laughs again, and Pete grins at him and goes to get him some tea (that Roobios stuff, with a little honey, that doesn’t have caffeine and it’s supposed to be super healthy).

 

While he’s over getting the drinks, Pete calls their tour manager… he knew there were going to be a couple of layovers on this tour, but he hadn’t noticed any kind of epic monster layovers in their schedule. They’re all getting too old and too creaky to sleep in airports. 

“So, uh, Scott, How long are we going to be in this lounge?”

Scott - who is not the best tour manager they’ve ever had, and Pete’s pretty sure that they’re going to have to have a band meeting about letting him go before the next leg of the tour - makes a _hmm_ noise.

“I don’t want to pull any diva shit, but we’ve been here for hours and we’ve got to perform _soon_ and we won’t be worth shit on stage if we’re exhausted. Is there a delay or should we be in a hotel right now?”

 _”uuuuuuh.”_ Scott sounds like he’s fucking stoned.

“Get your ass to the first class lounge right fucking now, dude.” Pete hangs up and heads back to Patrick with the tea.

 

“You know I said that I liked that no one else gets to see the Patrick-is-a-little-shit side of you?” Pete asks as he hands over the cup.

“Yes, Pete.” Patrick rolls his eyes. 

“I kinda need you to show that side to Scott? He doesn’t take me seriously and I think he’s stoned.”

Patrick sits up straighter and his face hardens. “What?”

“I called him to find out when the fuck we’re getting out of this damn airport and he couldn’t even speak.”

Patrick heaves out a sigh. “You call the label, get them to send someone else out, I’ll go and fire him. He’s screwed up too much, he keeps not getting Andy’s food, he’s got Joe stuck in a chair for hours, just weeks after his back surgery... “ 

Pete raises his eyebrows. This take-charge Patrick is new since they came back from hiatus, and Pete definitely believes in the benefit of using your words over (say) cutting the crotch out of all your bandmate’s underwear because you’re pissed at them (it had been fine, really, Pete’s perfectly happy going commando, but tour-jeans don’t get washed often enough to really make lack of underwear _fun_ ), but everyone used to get super-pissed when Pete accidentally made decisions for all of them and he doesn’t think it’ll be any better when it’s Patrick being all decisive and shit.

Patrick rubs his hands over his face and then pushes his glasses back up his nose. “Uhh. Yeah, I guess we should talk about it first, huh?”

“Probably... for what it’s worth I totally agree, but I reckon I’ll let you go and wake up Joe. I’ll get Andy.”

“Yeah, bring Andy over, Joe looks pretty comfortable in that chair and it’s quiet enough around him that we can have a private conversation.”

The whole lounge is quiet enough that they can have a private conversation, they’ve turned half the lights off and Pete’s pretty sure it’s just the four of them and one attendant to, like, man the door and keep an eye on the coffee, but he appreciates the gesture Patrick’s making. Joe is a ratty fuck when he’s tired.

Andy makes Pete wait until he’s finished his set of burpees, and Pete’s exhausted just watching him, but it does mean that by the time they join the guys Joe has gotten over being grumpy about being made to sit up and be human. 

“So…” Patrick says, and gestures at Pete to start talking.

“I called Scott to find out how much longer we’re going to be stuck here and he couldn’t tell me. He sounded stoned.” Pete stops, breathes, and _lets it sit_ , which is totally therapy bullshit from when him and Ashlee were trying to make things work, but he’s still so hyper aware of all the million ways he fucked up with the guys before hiatus and he doesn’t want to do any of them again.

 

“What the fuck? That means he’s carried something through security. Like, I’m not going to harsh anyone’s buzz, but there’s a time and a fucking place, man.” Joe shifts in his chair. “And he didn’t even _offer_ me anything, he knows my back fucking kills.”

Andy looks _pissed_ “If he’d been caught, we’d have been all over the internet again, and not in the good way.”

“So.” Patrick re-seats his hat again. “I vote we fire him.”

“Yeah, if he’s really stoned, we fire him now, If he’s just shit at his job we fire him when we get home.” Joe says.

Andy nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll….” Pete has always done most of the business side of things, he fucking lives for it, but he hates this bit, hates when he has to be the bad guy. 

“I’ll do it, Pete.” Patrick pats Pete on the arm. “I’m the pissy little shit, right?”

Joe laughs. “Well, you’ve not been pissy for a while…”

“Hey!” Patrick grabs a napkin off the table and throws it at Joe’s head. Pete makes a note to make sure that everything in Patrick’s grabbing range is soft and light from now on.

Or maybe he could work helmets into the theme for the next album. Or armoured hoodies? They could totally do a whole line of new merch with secret armour in it….

“Earth to Pete…” Andy is waving a hand in front of his face. “Is there anything funky in Scott’s contract that Patrick needs to know?”

“Umm.” Pete racks his brain. “I don’t think so, but I’ve got a copy on my Icloud.”

“‘Cos that’s so secure.” Joe mutters.

“It’s just, like Scott’s, you know, I’d ask him for everyone else’s. Lemme check.” Pete grabs his phone and pulls the contract up.

“It won’t matter much if he doesn’t get here soon.” Patrick is staring at the door to the lounge, which hasn’t moved in hours. “I’m pretty sure it’s part of his job to be available.”

 

They stay watching the door for another twenty minutes, then Pete calls Scott again, but it goes straight to voicemail. They settle down to half-sleeping, mostly-zombie-ing , utterly-grumpy waiting. Pete feels like his brain has gone into screen-saver.

Three hours after that, when the first people are coming into the lounge before their morning flights, there’s a commotion at the door as someone tries to come in who doesn’t have the right kind of ticket. Pete blinks about a million times, his eyes dry and tired from staring at the walls for so long. It takes him a minute to focus on the source of the noise, all he can see is the striped pattern of the wallpaper, dancing in front of him. It’s… Kayla, yeah, he’s pretty sure that’s her name, she’s an intern from the label, supposed to be learning all about touring and keeping track of the budgets. She looks panicky and exhausted. Pete looks at his band, they’re all sacked out, Patrick and Joe on the leather recliners, Andy on the floor. They’ll be okay if he leaves them for a minute. 

“Hey, Kayla, right?” Pete uses his best calming a hysterical toddler voice. He turns to the attendant who’s not letting Kayla in. “She’s with us - what do I have to do to let her come in here?”

The attendant looks a little stunned. “Uhh, Mr. Uhh, Wentz? She, uhh.” The attendant takes a deep breath. “She would need first class ticket, but if it’s only for a minute… I have to get something from that drawer, over there?” She points to a desk behind her. 

“Awesome, thank you.” Pete waits until the attendant turns around before he gestures Kayla to follow him over to a table near the guys. 

Kayla’s eyes are puffy and sore looking, her whole face looks kinda swollen. She rubs her forehead with her fingertips, like she’s trying to ward off a headache. “Scott’s gone.”

“What?” They’re a long way from home, there’s nowhere _to_ go. 

“I checked my plane ticket against our schedule. Either the schedule was wrong and we were supposed to have a ten hour layover here, or the tickets were, and we’re eight hours behind where we should be.” She swallows and Pete can hear how dry her throat is. “I went to find Scott to ask him, to see if we needed to get the airline to reimburse hotel expenses or whatever, and he told me to fuck off.” She smiles ruefully.

“He what?” Pete is kind of taken aback. This kid seems to be better at being an adult than he generally is, she’s so fucking composed, he’s pretty sure he’d be itching to punch fucking Scott in her place… he’s pretty sure he’s itching to punch fucking Scott _anyway_

“Yeah.” Kayla laughs, humorlessly. “I went and spoke to the people at the airline desk, who wouldn’t tell me anything until I got the label to call and clear with them that I was an appointed person or whatever, but anyway, it looks like Scott got here to get everything set up for us all to check in, and the airline were asking people to change to a later flight because of overbooking, so, instead of having us all on the the flight we were supposed to be on, with a hotel room waiting at the other end, he moved us all to a much later flight and took the compensation money. I went to confront him and he just slurred at me and walked off. He’s nowhere on this side of security now, I even got someone to check the johns for me.”

“Fuck.” Pete feels a little shellshocked by all of that.

“Yup.” Kayla sinks back into her chair and sighs. “I’ve spoken to the label and they’ve revoked Scott’s accounts and cancelled his tour credit cards. Someone will be meeting us from the plane when we land so you can get another tour manager on board… and I’ve organised a physio for Joe when we get to the hotel. They’ve got massuers and things as well, if you guys want something relaxing, but I haven’t been able to confirm if all their products are vegan friendly. There will be a vegan meal for Andy on the plane though. I, uhh, had to threaten them with your Twitter followers to get that, but I figure it was for the greater good.” She lets her head flop back, like someone’s let all the air out of her. 

“Woah. That’s… wow. Thank you.” Pete definitely has to talk to the band about hiring this woman forever. She’s kinda awesome.

Kayla smiles at him. “Well, they did say an internship on the road would teach me a lot.”

Pete is surprised into a laugh. “We are paying you, right? This isn’t some unpaid internship bullshit?”

Kayla shrugs. “I won’t make my fortune on it, but I also don’t need to pay bed and board so it could definitely be worse.”

Even if the band don’t want to hire her, Pete is totally going to make sure that she gets the bonus to end all bonuses. “Okay. Um. can you see if the hotel has a steam room? And if, like, we can get it privately? For Patrick's vocal chords. All this recycled air isn’t good for his vocal chords”

“Sure.” Kayla stands up. “I’d better go, Our flight starts boarding in just over an hour - I’ll try and come see you when we’re on board.”

Pete waves her off, and gets the attendant to break his paper money into a handful of small change before he drags a half-asleep Patrick over to the massage chairs. They’ve got an hour, and Patrick’s going to be a relaxed puddle by the time they get on the plane. Joe is out cold, and anyway, he needs specialist care right now, and the massage chairs are upholstered in something that might be leather so it’s not even worth asking Andy to join them. 

Sleepy Patrick is Pete’s favorite kind of posable action figure, he goes just where Pete tells him to. Patrick settles into the comfortable chair (the massage chairs are _so_ comfortable), but he almost leaps out of his skin when Pete puts the first coin in and the vibrations start.

“Pe-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ete…….” Patrick wobbles at him.

“Yes, pummelled Pattycakes?”

Patrick glares at him and waits for the massage to move down the chair. “This is _weird_.” 

They both look at Patrick’s knees, 

“I can actually feel my kneecaps vibrating… _Oh!_ ” Patrick looks a little concerned. “Now it’s squeezing my legs. Just. Weird, Pete.”

Pete watches the vibration work its way back up Patrick, he can see that the countdown timer is nearly done, and readies another coin. “Good weird, though, right?” He grins at Patrick. “Relaxing?”

“U-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-uhm.” Patrick slams his hand over the coin slot. “I honestly don’t know. You should try it, don’t waste all your coins on me.” He looks at Pete from under his hat. 

Pete frowns. This was _supposed_ to be a treat for Patrick.

Patrick sighs and takes his hand off the slot. “Maybe we could do it together?”

“Awesome!” Pete hands Patrick a coin. “On one?” He waves his own coin. 

“Sure.”

“Three, two….one!” 

Fu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-uck. Patrick’s totally right, it _is_ weird.It’s not uncomfortable, but it kinda feels like his brain is being bounced out of his head, and the poking bits at his lower back are getting very personal. The leg squeezes are maybe the worst… Pete’s not like Andy, he doesn’t have super muscled calves, but he’s… shapely in the lower leg department and it squeezes him kind of hard. 

Pete waits for the vibrations to stop. “You’re right, that’s super wierd. Maybe I should have asked Kaya to book real massages at the hotel.”

“Kayla?”

“Our new tour manager, I hope… but I guess we should talk about it first.” Pete grins.

“Yeah… that’s not really useful information, Pete.” Patrick looks at him over his glasses. 

“Yeah, yeah. We should go wake the guys up, the plane will be boarding soonish.”

“And then you’re going to explain, Wentz.”

 

The flight is busy, but their seats are together and they’re comfortable. This airline has a seat console version of Tetris that’s almost exactly the same as the gameboy version Pete used to be _obsessed_ with. He’s not allowed to buy it to have at home, but the band have agreed that it’s okay if he plays it on the plane. He’s kinda stoked. 

Kayla comes up to see them as soon as the seatbelt sign is off and Pete introduces her around. He can tell Andy’s impressed when she confirms that he’ll be getting fed, and Joe looks ready to marry her when she tells him about the physio that’s all lined up. Patrick is looking at her more consideringly, he’s polite , sure, but he’s definitely in interview-mode, and he asks her some questions about how she ended up on the tour in the first place. He does crack a smile when she says she’d rather be on Ed Sheeran’s tour, but that he doesn’t take interns.

 

The label sends a fixer guy to meet them from the plane, but they really don’t need him, Kayla’s fixed everything already. The hotel is… okay. It’s not the best they’ve ever been to, and it’s not even the best one in the area, but what it is is good enough and it’s not where people will expect them to stay so they probably won’t get stalked here. Like, people will probably still find them tomorrow, but they’ll get some privacy, first. 

Kayla hadn’t just fixed the ride from the airport, she’s a fucking magician, she’s got them private access to the health suite, with the steam room and hot tub… Patrick tries to cry off, tries to say he’s too tired, but Pete knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t get some moisture into his lungs before he sleeps in the dry, air conditioned room and it’s not like it’s, like, late here anyway, so he manhandles Patrick until Patrick gives in and comes quietly.

The steam room’s been set up with chamomile oil, it’s kinda weird and smells like tea, but it’s also magic and relaxing and Pete doesn’t ever want to leave. Patrick looks like he’s actually fallen asleep on the steam room bench, sacked out in a towel-burrito. Pete waits until Patrick is gently pink all over before he wakes him up, warm and steam-soothed is good, lobster is bad…  
“Hey, Patrick.” Pete nudges Patrick’s leg gently with his big toe. “Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatrick.”

“Mnhf.”

“Time to get up and go to bed ‘Trick.”

“Can bed not be here?” Patrick doesn’t open his eyes.

“Not unless you want to be all pruney and red, nope.”

“Mmmnnnf.” Patrick almost-whines.

“Cooooooome on.” Pete encourages him. “I’ve got you a huge robe to wrap up in…”

Patrick still hasn’t opened his eyes, but he’s definitely more awake. “How big?”

“Like…. Gabe sized, at least. Probably Gabe-and-William sized.”

“Hmmm.” Patrick rolls up to sitting. “Okay.” He pouts.

Pete grins at him and hands over the robe.

“We should get this chamomile stuff more often, it’s cool.” Patrick says as he wraps himself up and knots the belt, like, thirty times.

 

They have a show the next day, with soundcheck and some press and all that shit, but their call time isn’t until, like, two in the afternoon, so Pete arranges to meet Patrick for room service breakfast at eleven - he sets the alarm on Patrick’s phone, because Patrick’s practically asleep in the elevator back to the room and he doesn’t want Patrick to sleep through the most important meal of the day. Pete’s going to order fruit.

 

Ordering room service is never, ever, going to get old. Pete loves that all the things come on the trays under covers, it’s like getting a bunch of presents, and he really loves that he doesn’t need to wear pants.

He should probably be wearing pants to eat breakfast in Patrick’s room, but they’re on the same floor and shit, so whatever, it’s a band breakfast and Pete is going to wear his robe for it. Patrick’s wearing the robe Pete found for him last night, too, they’re the robe club. 

Andy and Joe are bickering but Pete’s determined to have a conversation about Kayla before the senior label people get here to untangle the mess that Scott left and the carousel of tour and money and tour and label and tour kicks off again so he starts to talk halfway through a mouthful of pineapple.

“Gu…” A bit of fruit goes down the wrong way and he starts to choke. Andy slams a fist into his back, which helps, and probably gives him a bruise worse than any he ever got from the pit. 

“Guys, we should talk about Kayla.”

Andy looks thoughtful and nods. “We should hire her.”

Joe rolls his shoulders. “Yup.”

Pete looks at Patrick. “‘Trick..?”

“I think we should ask her if she’d like to be assistant tour manager for the rest of this leg, then see.”

Pete feels indignation rising in his chest. “But she’s…” 

“She’s awesome, I know. But she’s also totally inexperienced and we’re not a small operation any more, Pete. Let her learn without it being…” Patrick shrugs.

“The end of the world if she fucks up?” Pete finishes for him.

“I vote yes.” Andy lifts his glass of juice in a toast. 

“Fuck yeah.” Joe clinks his coffee mug on the glass.

Patrick smiles. “D’you want to ask her?”

Pete grins. Yes, yes he really does.

 

Kayla is rendered practically speechless by the offer. She keeps saying “But…” and trailing off, but Pete keeps talking at her until she agrees, and then he goes and talks at the label until they sign up to it, too, and agree to send a good fucking tour manager who can teach her what she actually needs to know. 

 

The new tour manager situation is _much_ better. Andy always has food he can eat, Joe always has things set up to keep him comfortable and Patrick has regular access to steam rooms, or a steam shower. There are _activities_ , too, when they’ve got a couple of days off together, and Pete would normally be climbing the walls with boredom after 24 hours of sleep and relaxation… he’s so much better than he was, the insomnia doesn’t bite the way it used to, but he still doesn’t sleep all that great and there’s only so much staring at hotel room walls that he can do. 

The whole band don’t always come - Patrick will _always_ want to sleep more, and Joe really wasn’t up for Zorbing (which… it looks cool, but it’s hot and sweaty and the inside smells kinda bad), but sometimes… sometimes it’s like the kind of family outing that Pete half-remembers from his childhood crossed with a school trip, and then it’s fucking awesome.

 

They’re in… Scotland, Pete’s pretty sure, but they’ve been all over Europe recently, and they were in England some time before Germany, and Scotland and England are both still the UK, he thinks...Like, he’s pretty sure if that had changed it would have appeared on Twitter or something. It doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense that they’d be in England and then Germany and then back to Scotland, but tours don’t always make sense. He’ll ask someone over breakfast. Or dinner. He has no fucking clue what time it is. 

Someone knocks on his bedroom door, with the coded knock they use to show that it’s safe to answer the door. Pete checks through the spy-hole anyway. He can be taught, eventually, and the last-but-one hotel stalker had been a little terrifying, so..checking first, yeah. It’s just Kayla though, so he opens the door. 

“Hey. Uh, are we in Scotland?”

“Yes Pete.” She rolls her eyes at him slightly.

“Cool.” Pete nods, like he’s totally a fucking together adult who knows what’s going on. 

“It’s four in the afternoon and you have no commitments until six p.m. tomorrow evening.”

Pete _knew_ hiring Kayla was a good idea. She’s a fucking mind reader. 

“So, I did a little research and found this really cool museum that they have here, that doesn’t have any, like, stolen or exploitative stuff that Andy won’t like - it’s all local social history and stuff, and this, like indoor garden thing, which I’m pretty sure is set up so the people here can see plants and shit without getting rained on.” Kayla hands him a flyer. 

“The People’s Palace. Huh.” Pete looks at the flyer. “Looks cool.” He shrugs, it doesn’t look boring, anyway. 

“Yeah. I’ll get a car for about half after ten tomorrow morning? Do you want to talk to the rest of the band, see who wants to come, or do you want me…”

“I’ll do it.” Pete tries not to bother the guys when they’re on days off, but this is, like, an actual reason to talk to them. He grins.

 

 

Kayla has coffees for them all at the car, and the driver - a dude called Sandy - is fucking hilarious. Like, Pete can only understand about three fourths of what he’s saying, he’s talking so quickly, and half of it doesn’t seem to be in English, but what he does understand has him snorting coffee down his nose and Patrick asking for more details in a way he knows will make Sandy say something that Pete will laugh even harder about.

“So lads, make sure you go an’ see the Big Yin exhibit and I’ll get one of his tapes for the journey back.”

Patrick smiles and nods and says “Sure.” while Joe and Andy pile out of the car, practically running away from Kayla. 

She shouts back at him and Patrick. “Everyone to meet in the Cafe by noon, okay?” Before running after Joe and Andy.

Pete checks his watch, they’ve got about an hour. That’s a good amount of time, more than that and he sometimes gets a bit bored in museums.

 

The museum - once he gets through the heavy revolving door at the front… it’s fine once it’s started but fuck he needs to put all his weight into it - is kind of like a weird grand house.

“Wanna start at the top?” Patrick asks him. Patrick’s picked up a map or something from the rack by the door. “There aren’t so many rooms here and the cafe’s on the first floor.”

“Like, real first floor, or British first floor?” Pete’s been caught out by that before. 

“Like right through that door.” Patrick points. “Over there.”

“Cool. Sure, let’s start at the top.”

There exhibit the driver told them to look out for is on the top floor, there’re all these pictures and portraits of the same guy and the signs say they were commissioned to be put on the sides of buildings. It’s kind of cool.

“Who would you want to do your pictures Patrick?” Chicago should totally put Patrick on the sides of buildings, Patrick is awesome. 

Patrick snorts. “I don’t know, like, Tom Conrad maybe? Or I’m sure Gerard could make me a superhero.”

“That would be cool. The Butcher might do something interesting.”

“Mmh.” 

The room they’re walking through now has _the_ most amazing bath and shower. Like, it looks totally modern and has all these levers and things and Pete totally wants one. He’s a rockstar, dammit, he wants a bath with a button that makes waves.

What’s less cool is the display of different hard liquor bottles from the _1990s_. That’s not history, he was almost legal to drink those things - _would_ have been legal here. He’s pretty sure that Patrick is laughing at him. Fuck Patrick you-corrupted-me-when-I-was-a-child Stump. Pete grabs Patrick’s hand and drags him back to the painted feet on the floor of the dancehall exhibit. If Patrick is gonna laugh at him, Patrick is also gonna _dance_ with him.

 

“Peeeeete, Pete, this is _ridiculous_.” Patrick half whines, half laughs. He keeps stumbling over his feet.

“No, come on, it’s easy, side - replace - side - close side…” Pete demonstrates (and definitely does not explain that he’s developed a slight addiction to _Dancing with the Stars_ and they totally demonstrated this one). 

Pete drags at Patrick’s arm and makes him line up his feet to the footprints on the floor again. With a bit of pulling and a well aimed kick, Patrick manages to dance beautifully with Pete. Which is when Kayla arrives, and her face is a warring picture of infuriated and beguiled.

“Guys, it’s ten after one. You’re supposed to be in the cafe?”

“Oh shoot, sorry Kayla!” Patrick drags his hands away from Pete. “We’ll go now.” 

“Good, order a sandwich. I need to find Joe and Andy.” Kayla disappears around a corner.

Patrick grabs Pete’s hood and tugs Pete toward the stairs.

 

Pete does not, in fact, order a sandwich, because Pete is a grown up and he really wants the cake covered in jam and coconut. 

Patrick rolls his eyes. “At least have some soup or something so you don’t have a sugar crash half way through sound check.”

Pete orders a bowl of lentil soup, it is fucking amazing. 

“Pete.” Hisses Patrick, tugging on Pete’s sleeve. “Is that… Joe…. in that tree, over there.” Patrick gestures at the mass of tropical plants just next to the cafe using just his eyes. 

Pete tries to look without moving his head but he can’t see anything. 

Kayla comes out of the tropical plant exhibit, pulling Andy behind her “You can meditate on the bus, or at the venue, you’re late for lunch now.”

Andy is unceremoniously dumped on one of the chairs at Pete and Patrick’s table. 

“Were you communing with Nature?” Patrick ask with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.

“It’s peaceful, and I like the warm, green smell.” 

Pete pats Andy on the arm. “It _does_ smell good in here, but it’s better if you have lunch, too.”

“Hmm. this doesn’t look like the kind of place that will have food for me.” Andy waves at the food counter, which Kayla is coming back from with a bowl of soup. 

“It’s tomato and basil and it’s fine for you.” She says. “All of you stay here, I just need to find Joe.”

She heads back into the main part of the museum and moments later there’s a rustling noise from the tree behind Pete, which makes Andy huff and cross his arms. 

“You’ll damage the plants, Joe.” Andy says. 

Joe snorts and puts his hands (his _slightly muddy_ hands) on Pete’s shoulders. “I was careful Andy, I just wanted to look.”

“There’s a sign.” Patrick points at the big red prohibited sign. “And you’re late for Kayla.”

“I’m rock and roll.”

Pete laughs. They’ve never been a totally bad ass rock band - like, they’ve had their fair share of hell raising, but they’ve never really been, like, divas about it. Patrick’s the closest thing they have to a diva and he’s too damn polite to diva at anyone he doesn’t know that well. It’s cool that Joe’s fucking around though, his back must be feeling pretty good. 

Patrick snorts, the waves at someone behind Pete. “Hi Kayla.”

Joe sits down so fast he breaks the sound barrier, and Kayla isn’t even in the fucking room.

Pete’s laughing so hard he can hardly speak, but, you know, Patrick set him up so _well_. “You’re a scaredy cat, is what you are.”

 

Being slightly scared of Kayla isn’t really a bad thing, after all, she stops Patrick throwing things at Pete and she’s factored time in for them to go to the gift store before they have to leave the museum and Pete’s never spent so much time with his boys without fighting in his life (except for the fun kind of fighting, when Patrick just wants to be a little shit, privately, just for Pete).


End file.
